


Snail Mail

by SadLesbianClown



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Sort Of, pen pals to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24278329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadLesbianClown/pseuds/SadLesbianClown
Summary: Simon is bored and writes a letter to Baz. Baz writes back. It's cute.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 45
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've never posted something where I am this clueless about how the story will end, but I have the first chapter so that's a start. Idk what this is. I am bored in quarantine and have watched the movie The Half of It 4 times this week. If you want an adorable, witty gay love story communicated through mail, go watch that, but if you're fine watching me attempt and very likely fail to be sweet and funny, continue onward.

Simon

I read it in a book.

“Write some snail mail to someone you don’t often speak to and never acknowledge your correspondence.”

I was bored. It was the last day of term, I was dreading going back to a care home. To be honest, I was a bit desperate, I wasn’t about to ruin my last day of scones and roast beef and Penny before the summer with questions like “where will I be going? Will this home be worse than the last? Is this actually the year the Mage brings me home with him? Is it worth the disappointment to hope?”

Basically, my undistracted mind was shite, and I cannot be left alone with my thoughts.

So I made a list.

All the people I knew I could write a letter to:

Penny (But I talk to her everyday)

Agatha (See above, also she doesn’t strike me as the type to waste her time writing when she could have a direct conversation with someone)

Baz

It was a short list, I knew, but what was the harm?

A lot probably.

The truth of the matter was that Baz and I don’t often speak. Sure, we insult each other. We talk about each other quite a bit, almost constantly, enough that my friends have limits on how much time on any given day my roommate can be discussed. But no, we don’t speak. Besides, he looks just as bored as I am. Finals ended yesterday and he’s been throwing all his attention into packing and repacking the same bag for well over an hour. So I grab my notebook and a pen and start to work.

How does one start a boredom-induced letter to one’s vampiric nemesis?

“Dear Baz,” probably.

I jot it down at the top of the page and skip to the third line. What next? What do I want to say? Nevermind want, what could I even say? What do we have in common? I slay evil creatures of the night as the chosen savior of the magical world, and Baz plots my demise while looking infuriatingly cool, sulking off into the Wavering Wood. I wonder if the Vexatious Roses and Murder Bees bother him too. The very edge of the wood is quite nice, there’s a pathway the goats maintain, and it’s a nice place to walk and find a tree to sit and read under, but if you want to do anything else, like push back invading swarms of goblins or drain the blood of innocents you have to push past the rose hedges which of course attract the bees, and well you wind up with a lot of torn pants legs and swelling welts. Honestly it’s a lot of work, the woods really don’t like being disturbed.

_Dear Baz,_

_Dont you hate having your leisurely killing sprees spoiled by having to pull thorns out of your ass?_

Maybe that’s coming on too strong. My first attempt at civil conversation with Baz since first year probably shouldn’t begin with my asking about his ass. I revise.

_Dear Baz,_

_How are you? Are you ever going to stop packing that bag? Seriously if you don’t it is going to start packing you._

_Dont you hate having your leisurely killing sprees spoiled by having to pull thorns out of your ass?_

_Really someone should clear a path._

_How do you avoid the bees in the dark?_

_Sincerely Simon Snow_

Good. Engaging. I tear out the letter, plus an extra blank page, and stuff it an envelope with a note “Please write back.”

Baz

Why is Simon Snow asking about the state of my ass?


	2. Chapter 2

Baz

Snow’s well and truly lost it. I can honestly say he’s done it. He’s bested me. I cannot begin to comprehend what kind of scheme this is. I am vexed. 

I was trying to fit the last of my books in my suitcase, well they were the library’s but seeing as how my inheritance to the title of the next Headmaster of Watford was stolen, I don’t see the harm in stealing a few books. When then, he crossed to my side of the room, dropped an envelope on a pile of my folded clothes, and then quite literally ran out the door and out of Mummers House. 

For a second I thought for sure it was going to explode, that he’d hope running fast enough would protect him from the anathema; it wouldn’t. 

When at last I opened the letter I was no less concerned for my safety. 

It was atrocious. I should be appalled. I should have set it aflame. I immediately wrote back. 

  
  


_Dear Sincerely Simon Snow,_

_Do not take my response to your letter as a genuine interest in speaking with you. I am merely fulfilling my civic duty by informing you of your failures:_

_The words, “seriously,” “really,” and “sincerely,” should each have been followed by a comma._

_“Dont,’ is not a word. “Don’t,” as in the conjugation of the words “do,” and “not,” is._

_Lastly,_ **_make way for the king_** _,_ _parts the hedge. As for the bees, try honey. Really Snow, how have you survived this long?_

_Sincerely,_

_Basilton Pitch_

I left the note on the bed and departed the room to join my aunt at the front gate who had texted that she had arrived to bring me home for the summer. 

That should have been it. 

One curious written exchange. 

Then 2 weeks later, a letter arrived in the mail. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank everyone who's been reading and commenting on this. I really love hearing from you guys. Hope you're all enjoying this strange little quarantine project :)

Simon

I’ve been back in a care home for just over a week and I’m already miserable. Usually, I can muscle through a month before the existential dread seeps in. I want to write Penny but the Mage caught me last time. I understand he’s trying to protect me, but honestly, I am so lonely. 

The Mage would never expect me to write to the enemy though, so I pulled out my notebook and set a pen to page. 

_Baz,_

~~_How is your summer going? I’_ ~~

No.

_Fuck you._

There, that’s more like it. 

_It’s a letter not an english lesson. Not even going to deny the killing spree line huh?_

_Are you seriously telling me you’ve never had to get that awful salve from the infirmary? The smell is horrid, like grass that’s been chewed up and vomited by a goat. I’m almost not sure it’s better_ _than the welts._

_One time the Mage sent me to check in on a troll spotting and a bloody weasel chased me right into a hive. I’m surprised you didn’t notice, I limped for days._

_I will try that bit about the hedges though. Even if it doesn’t work maybe I can at least blow it up. Can’t be worse than getting pricked all the damn time._

_What is it that dark creatures do on summer break? You probably go on posh holidays to italian beaches. Can’t imagine you would enjoy the beach though, all that sun and whatnot._

_Please write back to the listed address._

_-Simon_

Baz

_Dear Snow,_

_I’ll leave the intimate encounters with shrubberies to you, Snow._

_Is that what that smell is? I thought that was your natural musk._

_Haven’t you learned yet; I notice everything. I thought of saying something, but you were doing a fine enough job embarrassing yourself without my help._

_Who has the time for holidays, the summer is when I get my best plotting done._

_Sincerely,_

_Basilton Pitch_

_P.S. How did you get my address? Stalker much?_

I really shouldn’t encourage him, but the truth is he’s right. Daphne does always take the kids on holiday during the summer break, they’re in France at the moment. I’m always invited, but seashore and I do not get on. I made up some excuse about having a special project to do for divination class. Why can’t we holiday in Paris in February, when it’s cold and rainy and you can wander the museums with reduced crowds? 

Father always stays behind in Hampshire; he won’t be kept from his work that long. Sometimes he flies out for a weekend or so, but then he’s always right back. Which means, I am spending the next 3 months wandering an empty estate and having uncomfortable, silent dinners with him. 

It wasn’t a total lie, what I said about plotting. True to tradition, I had planned a summer much like the several previous summers, packed with plots to stop being in love with Simon Snow. This newest form of torture is making that quite difficult, however. 

I really should not be encouraging this. I just can’t help myself. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving writing this, thank you to all who are reading and commenting. Hope you're all well and healthy in this strange time :)

Simon

I’m honestly surprised when the woman who runs the care home tells me I got a letter in the mail. I didn’t think he’d write back. Responding once to correct my grammar and generally be a twat I could have predicted. The second letter, however, I thought would have been tossed in the bin before the seal could be broken, or worse, returned-to-sender. 

The other boys tease me of course, “ooh is that from your girlfriend?” they mock. 

I don’t know how to explain Baz to them, _“no it’s not a girl, it’s my nemesis/school roommate, only now it appears we are pen pals.”_

Instead, I ignore them and hurry to the bathroom with the letter. 

I lock the door, just in case. Letters have been known to disappear down toilets in homes like this. Teenage boys really can be awful. 

He actually wrote back. A real letter. He’s still being a twat but there are full sentences instead of a list of my apparent failings. 

I got his address from the Mage second year. It was on a list that had all the Old Families’ addresses. Something about dangerous places I must never go. After a few years, I figured out that he would select the care homes to be near the different houses. So that if over the summer someone stirred trouble, the Mage could send a letter telling me to be at so-and-so’s house at this time and date. He’d throw in a couple of pounds for a bus ticket, most times at least. It was to save resources I think. Why send one of his Men out of their way to pick me up when I was perfectly capable of walking myself. I was the Chosen One, after all, I could take care of myself. 

I don’t think Baz would be glad to hear the Mage goes around giving away his home address though. 

_Baz,_

_Agatha gave me your address you twat._

_Care to share any details of your upcoming schemes? I’d like to get started planning my counter-plots._

_Merlin it’s hot. I’ve only got two sentences on the page and the paper is already sticking to me like cooked spaghetti._

_… and now I want spaghetti._

_Or, oh! Cook Pritchett’s beef bourguignon over the thick noodles. She adds something extra, a spice or something. I’ve never been able to figure it out but it’s amazing._

_What are you having for dinner?_

_-Simon_

  
  


I got the next letter only 2 days later. And again, I dodge questions of its sender from the other boys and rush off to the bathroom to read it. 

_Dear Snow,_

_Ah Wellbelove has betrayed me then. I must confront her about that at the next Old Families meeting. Right after the ceremonial bathing but before we discuss your imminent doom, I think._

_It’s over 30 degrees out and you’re thinking of beef stew. It’s cinnamon, by the way, and a pinch of cayenne. It adds a nice warmth. There, now you can wow the Mage with your cooking tricks._

_I, on the other hand, eat sensibly for the season. I’m making a chicken caprese salad for supper._

_What about you? How does the Chosen One feast unencumbered by dining schedules?_

  
  


_Sincerely,_

_Basilton Pitch_

  
  


Simon

It’s been a month since I left Watford and I’m not doing well. I miss home. I miss those pastries with butter, I can’t even stand to think by name for fear I’ll start crying. Which is a very real fear. Emotion is not something I can afford to show here. I already get mail, that’s made me enough as a target already. Someone out there cares enough about me to buy postage, it’s enough to make a home of orphans upset. Even if it is Baz. That’s a stark realization. He must care at least a little bit to go through the trouble of writing and mailing me letters. I guess hatred is a form of caring though. If he really didn’t care he’d be entirely indifferent to my existence. I think he tries to be indifferent to me sometimes. When he hides behind his books and tries to pretend I’m not in the room, but he does notice. He must because that’s how he notices when I’ve forgotten to button up my shirt all the way or dropped a crisp packet or any of the other numerous things he chastises me for.

_Baz,_

_Aggie goes to those meetings?_

_I don’t cook for the Mage and to answer your question, very little I’m afraid._

_Also how do you know what spiced Cook Pritchett uses???_

_-Simon_

Truthfully I don’t have much to say in these letters. I doubt Baz wants to hear about how I gave up my dinner for a younger boy because the rest of the lads beat him to the kitchen. Or how much I actually miss getting scratched up by roses just so I can be alone in the woods. The busy quiet and fresh country air. Even fighting off goblins because at least then I get to use my sword which is probably the one thing in life I’m actually good at. But Baz is in his mansion. He gets to see Agatha, and his friends, and go out to eat, and be alone whenever he wants. That’s what I can’t work out. 

_P.S._

_Why are you responding to these letters?_

  
  


Baz

He’s so gullible. So stupid. I love him so much. I don’t know how I have ever gotten through a summer without him. It seems so impossible now that I have this lifeline to him. 

_Dear Snow,_

_Yes Snow, we ritually draw a communal bath and plot your ruin and your girlfriend attends every gathering, would never miss it, our_ **_Aggie_ ** _._

_Oh I see, the Mage a bad cook, is he? I cannot imagine him in an apron._

_We’re friends. I help out in the kitchen sometimes and it was I who told her to try the cinnamon._

_It’s how my mom used to make it._

_If you must know Snow, I’m bored. My family is away, and I don’t have plans with Dev and Niall until this evening. Trust me, if I had anything, and I mean anything, else to do, I would._

_Sincerely,_

_Basilton Pitch_

\--

I love him and I had no idea. Why has he never said anything? Did he? Is it possible I could have missed any detail about him? I want to go to him. I want to hold him, take him away. I  really  want to light the Mage on fire. 

But I can’t. He’s there and I’m here and there’s nothing I can do but write. 

For now though, I think I’ll just sit here and hold the two lines he paid 70p to send me when he has nothing else. 

\--

_No Baz, I don’t live with the Mage. I live in a care home over the summer._

_Plotting not going well, then?_

_-Simon_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't start putting cinnamon in your stew on my account. I don't actually have idea if that works. Or do, and tell me how it turns out. It just popped in my head while writing and I ran with it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! How have you been? Is anyone out there still interested in this? Don't worry, I didn't forget about this story, it was just lost for a little while. Steady as she goes, I'll keep updating, little by little, until we get through.

Simon

We’ve been writing each other for a few weeks now. I don’t know what happened, but at some point something shifted between us. The letters have become longer and more regular. I get one every Monday and Friday and send a return letter in the evening post. 

Baz is now familiar with every kid in the care home. I have described them each at length, as well as Mrs. Harding, the caregiver, and her fondness of gin and juice while watching love island. 

Similarly, I can say comfortably that I could navigate Pitch Manor without ever having been there. I know there is a servant passage that gives you a shortcut to the kitchen from the top gallery, and if you pass the house on the drive, there’s a barn back in the fields where Baz’s step-mother, Daphne, has two horses. One for her, and one, a birthday present, for his younger sister, Mordelia. A solid black mare she has never shown any interest in. I know Baz sneaks it carrots from the house, and every Christmas Eve makes a point to wander down there and give them each a peppermint. 

One Monday, I don’t get a letter at all. I make Mrs. check the box 4 times before she gets annoyed and just lends me the key for the day. There must have been a mistake, I think. It must have fallen between the seat or something. They’ll find it and fix it, I am so sure they would. When at last the sun sets and the caregiver requests the return of the key, I turn my attention to the other boys. One by one I interrogated them, surely one of  _ them  _ must have taken it when I wasn’t looking, but no. I toss every bunk and all that came of it was a soapy mouth for causing a ruckus. 

I felt right mad when the next day a parcel arrived in place of a letter. A stack of heavy stationary and 2 dozen stamps. “ _ The notebook paper is raising questions from my postal carrier _ ,” the note inside said. 

I know it’s not a gift, it’s about appearances, but I can’t help smiling. I hide the bundle in my pillow case. It’s rather uncomfortable to sleep on, but I want to protect it. At night I run my finger over the soft paper, it feels like silk. Maybe this place is getting to me, maybe I am delusional, but I swear the pages smell like home. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~smoke and bergamot~


	6. Chapter 6

_ Dear Snow, _

_ Are you sure you want me to send you  _ _ this _ _ book? I have other ones I can lend you.  _

_ You were right, by the way, the ginger in the scones was a nice touch. I’m not as convinced by the peppermint-butter though. I’ve never once eaten a dinner roll and thought, “what if it was minty fresh?” The pairing wasn’t the worst idea to come out of this week however, did you see the latest episode of love island? That swap! Crowley. What were they thinking? I am beginning to understand Mrs. Harding’s gin habit.  _

_ Oh! Mordelia called me this morning. Apparently the twins went mad for the remote controlled cars. Thank you again for the idea. You may be especially pleased to learn that when Petunia was racing her’s down the hall, Father walked right into it and fell flat on his arse. The cars were, of course, immediately tossed in the bin, but Mord said getting to see him squirming on his back was their favorite birthday gift. Xavier now keeps asking him to play “turtle”.  _

_ Unfortunately, he comes back tomorrow which will put an end to my weekend of reading in the library without trousers. Well, it was fun while it lasted and I’m fairly confident the red wine stain on the sofa has finally faded. It only took 4 rounds of Out Out Damn Spot and a charmed jewel. Let’s just hope he never goes rifling through the cushions looking for a pen or he might get his soul trapped in a pharaoh's tomb.  _

__

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Basilton Pitch _

_ ~ _

_ Baz, _

_ Thanks for the book. Why wouldn’t you think I’d like this? It has sports!  _

_ Oi dont knock the mint til you’ve tried the mint mate. Remember what you said about the peanut butter pavlova?  _

_ BAHAHA the mental image of Malcolm dirtying him sweater while rolling on the floor is *chef’s kiss* the Mage himself couldn’t come up with a better plot.  _

_ I still don’t know why you insisted on using that jewel. I told you baking soda would work just as well.  _

_ Felix got adopted this week. Some woman with a dog. He was really excited about that last bit. He’s never had a pet before. She brought it with her to pick him up on Tuesday. Big ol’ slobbery thing but I’ve never seen him so happy. We had a strange moment before he left. He told me he was scared but when I asked why he said he was scared to go without me looking out for him. I wanted to say he wouldn’t need lookin out for where he was going, but we both know the fighting follows you anywhere.  _

_ Or well. Almost anywhere. If I knew the fighting could stay out of the post, I would have written long ago.  _

_ -Simon _

_ P.S. Oi all this competition between Gene and Finny, kind of like us eh? _

_ P.S.S. Wait, is this a gay book? No one could be  _ **_that_ ** _ obsessed with a fit bloke without fancying him.  _

_ P.S.S.S. HE DIED????????? I did not see that coming. Thank Merlin I was doing the washing up so there were no witnesses to the wee cry I had.  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters in one day after 7 months of not being able to write a single word of this story? Yeah that tracks.


End file.
